


My Heart Speaks A Language I Don’t Understand

by Finduilas



Series: Love, Most Definitely [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, France (Country), Love Actually AU, M/M, Meet-Cute, Polish Stilinskis, Writer Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-17 01:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13066161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finduilas/pseuds/Finduilas
Summary: This is a Love Actually AU in several parts. I have taken the couples and storylines from the movie Love Actually and turned each one into a Sterek fic. Each part is separate and stands alone. I have only done three parts so far. I might add other parts in the future, if I find some writing mojo again. Each part is a finished fic in its own.Thank you to Ashley for the beta, to Juu for the encouragement, and to Mako for correcting the Polish!





	My Heart Speaks A Language I Don’t Understand

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Very brief Derek/Kate in the beginning. Kate cheating on Derek. Just as a set-up, the rest is all Sterek.
> 
> Translation of the French and Polish can be found in the notes at the end of the fic.

Derek looks at his watch as he’s stepping out of the car and towards the house. He knows he doesn’t actually have much time today, but Kate seemed to be feeling so crappy this morning that she’d probably appreciate a quick visit from Derek over lunch, just to check in and see how she’s doing. She was supposed to accompany Derek to the Christening this morning, but she felt too sick to. It isn’t a disaster, Scott and Kira are more Derek’s friends than they are Kate’s anyway, though it would’ve been nice not to have to go alone.

But Derek agreed that if she didn’t feel well, it was best to just stay in bed this morning. No use sitting in a church feeling awful, after all. 

Derek is glad that he found half an hour to come home in between the Christening and the meeting with his publicist though, to see how Kate is doing. 

He doesn’t make a lot of noise when he walks in the door. Just in case Kate is napping, he doesn’t want to wake her up. What he doesn’t expect is to bump into his uncle, who’s coming out of the kitchen. 

“Uncle Peter?” Derek says, somewhat surprised, “What are you doing here?” 

“Uhm,” Peter says, offhanded, “I was uh… I wanted to see if I could borrow your good camera. There’s this… project a couple of friends are working on.”

“Oh, okay,” Derek says, stepping into the living room as Peter follows him. “Yeah, sure. You’re lucky you didn’t end up in front of a closed door.” Derek starts looking through the drawers of the dresser, in search of the camera. He always puts things in their right spot and then Kate always seems to move them for God knows what reason. He goes on, “We were supposed to be at Scott and Kira’s thing, remember? The Christening? But Kate wasn’t feeling too well this morning so she stayed home. She let you in then?” 

“Yeah,” Peter says, nodding. “Friendly as always.” 

“Ah,” Derek says when he finally gets his hand on the camera. He puts in on the table, opening up the camera bag to check if everything’s in there - battery, lenses, cables. “Look, I don’t want to be that guy, you know? But make sure you’re careful with it, okay? Put the cap back on the lense and stuff.” 

“Who do you take me for, my dear nephew?” Peter says, mock-insulted. 

Derek is just about to remind him of the incident with the laptop when Kate’s voice rings through the house. 

“Hurry up, big guy!” she calls out, sounding distinctly less sick than this morning, “I’m naked and I want you at least twice before Derek comes home!” 

Peter hardly moves a muscle as Derek just stands there for a moment, shellshocked. 

“Well…” Peter says eventually, looking anywhere but at Derek, but Derek cuts him off right away. 

“ _ Don’t _ !” Derek says, pointing up his finger at him. He doesn’t know what else to say to Peter. He’s disgusted and so  _ so _ angry, but he’s surprised at the fact that he’s not even… that surprised. In either of them. 

 

***

 

Derek isn’t one to run away from his problems, and he doesn’t think that that’s necessarily what he’s doing either. After all, Peter and Kate aren’t his problem anymore. In a way he always knew that Kate wasn’t the one for him, that it wasn’t going to last, but he did envision a more… peaceful breakup than the one they had. Kate tried to blame him for everything, as if it was somehow Derek’s fault that she ended up in Peter’s bed. Derek’s still not entirely sure how she had the guts to try and twist it that way, but again, he isn’t that surprised. 

Peter… well, Peter was Peter, and it confirmed for Derek once more that family is simply blood, and that there’s no guarantee for honesty or loyalty. He tried, honestly, because Peter and his sister are the last family he has left, but this is most definitely a step too far, and Derek doesn’t owe him anything. 

  
In conclusion, Derek doesn’t want to see either of them for a while. Maybe ever. He wants to focus on his new book, on something useful, something productive. And that’s why he’s here. Not because he’s running. 

The Hale family has a nice summer home in the south of France. Derek doesn’t go there very often, but all of a sudden it seems perfect to isolate himself, to write, to not think about Kate or Peter or their betrayal and just do what he loves to do. Cora gave her blessing, and Peter certainly isn’t in a position to object, so Derek can pretty much stay at the house for as long as he wants to. 

He puts his luggage down in the middle of the living room and starts opening the shutters of the windows, to let the light in. He likes coming here in winter. It’s quiet, peaceful. Just what Derek needs right now. 

 

***

 

Derek is busy typing away on his laptop when the doorbell rings. He would be annoyed by the interruption if it wasn’t for the fact that Derek himself asked for it. If he wants to concentrate on his writing, it would be handy to have someone do the housekeeping for him, and so he asked an old friend of his mom’s - someone from the village - to get him some help. 

“Bonjour Aline,” Derek says, with what he’s sure is an atrocious accent as he greets the elderly, quirky lady at the door. She hasn’t changed a bit from the last time that he’s seen her. 

“Bonjour Monsieur Hale,” Aline replies loudly, but with a smile. “It’s so nice to see you again. The house is empty, too often.” 

“I know, I know,” Derek says, apologetic. They used to come here every summer, the entire family. But that was before the fire. Derek doesn’t like to admit it, but being back here again, seeing Aline with her thick glasses and her socks in sandals again… he’s missed it. “But I’ll be here for a while now.” he reassures her. 

“That is wonderful news!” Aline barks out. “Did you bring your  _ petite amie _ ?” 

“Uh,” Derek ducks his head, “Nope, it’s just me.” 

“Ah,” Aline says, yet she never loses her smile, “Am I sad or not sad?” 

“I think you’re not surprised,” Derek says, giving her a look. 

Aline just smirks. She doesn’t comment on it anymore. “Well, I found you the perfect person to clean the house, do the groceries.” She turns around and waves at the open space where Derek’s car is parked, and another as well, presumably Aline’s. Next to Aline’s car is standing a young man, his hands stuffed in his pockets, smiling broadly.

“This is Stiles,” Aline introduces, and Stiles takes one of his hands out of his pocket to wave at Derek.

“Stiles,” Derek repeats, and he’s not entirely what Derek was expecting. He immediately mentally reprimands himself, because why on earth should a housekeeper be a woman? 

Derek realizes he is staring at Stiles - he can’t help but notice his good looks either - and so he clears his throat and walks up to Stiles, trying to bring back his best French. “Bonjour Stiles,” Derek says, welcoming him. “Je suis… uh, très heureux de vous avoir ici.” 

“Unfortunately he cannot speak French,” Aline says, pointedly. “Kind of like you.” She smirks at Derek again. “Stiles is Polish.” 

“Ah,” Derek says, opening his mouth again to speak when he realizes that he doesn’t know a single word of Polish. Not even to say hello. “English?” Derek asks, hopeful. 

“No English either,” Aline says, shaking her head, “But I am sure you will manage.” She’s already on her way back to her car, and there’s a slight panic rising up inside of Derek because he has no idea how to communicate with this guy. “He doesn’t have a car, so it would be very helpful if you could drive him home at the end of the day?” Aline doesn’t really wait for an answer, just assumes Derek will agree, and then she’s off and Derek is standing there on the gravel in front of the door, not entirely sure how to proceed. 

Stiles is smiling at him, a little awkwardly, like he realizes the weirdness of the situation as well. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, and Derek realizes that he’s staring again. This is going to be a disaster, he thinks. 

“Do you, uh…?” Derek asks, but he doesn’t finish his sentence because Stiles wouldn’t understand him anyway. So Derek just waves his hands at the door opening, which Stiles understands as an invitation to come in. 

The day moves along rather quickly. Seeing as the house has been empty for quite some time, Stiles has his work cut out for him cleaning. Derek doesn’t really need to tell him what to do, Stiles seems to take initiative on his own, and so Derek retreats behind his laptop again, immersing himself in his words. When Stiles is busy in the other rooms, Derek almost forgets he’s there. But when Stiles is dusting off in the living room, Derek can’t help but take notice. Stiles doesn’t exactly do his best not to intrude Derek in his work, but it doesn’t even bother Derek.

Stiles is humming to himself as he picks up and - loudly - puts down every trinket on the dresser to dust underneath it. When he catches Derek staring, Stiles smiles broadly at him, and Derek’s face heats up. Stiles says something to him, in Polish obviously, and Derek has no idea what it means but he smiles anyway. Then feels like an idiot for it. Stiles responds in kind though, so he must not have offended him or anything. 

 

***

 

Derek has always been content with silence. He’s not one of those people that absolutely needs to fill the air with inane babbling. Stiles doesn’t appear to be of the same kind, Derek discovers as he drives him home. 

Stiles gestures at something outside the window - Derek maybe thinks it’s the empty vineyard they’re driving past - and starts talking. Surely he must know that Derek doesn’t understand a word of it, but that doesn’t seem to stop him as he goes on. Every now and then there’s an English sounding word in the middle of Stiles’ sentence, and Derek thinks maybe he’s trying to slip in some of Derek’s home language. 

“Lawenda,” Stiles says, pointing at the field they’re passing that Derek assumes must be lavender when it’s in bloom. Stiles gestures with his hands, it’s sort of an exploding movement, though Derek doesn’t quite get what that has to do with lavender. 

“Sorry?” Derek asks, looking at Stiles apologetically. 

“Latem,” Stiles repeats a few times, but it doesn’t sound like anything Derek recognizes. “Uhm…” Stiles says, thinking. “S-summar?” he finally says, hesitantly. He looks at Derek full of hope. 

“Yes, summer!” Derek exclaims excitedly, “The lavender in the summer! I bet they make for beautiful fields.” He feels kind of silly for getting so excited about understanding something Stiles says, but Stiles’ proud smile more than makes up for it. He nods, happily. “Bootiful,” Stiles repeats, the edges of his mouth curled up. Then he goes off in Polish again, faster than Derek could ever hope to understand, but his enthusiasm is infectious and Derek finds himself smiling the entire drive, listening to Stiles’ melodic babbling. 

 

***

 

Having Stiles in the house is doing wonders for Derek’s writing. Purely because having someone to deal with the everyday hassle of cooking, grocery shopping, and cleaning frees up Derek’s time to concentrate on his story, he’s sure. But he can’t really deny that Stiles’ presence in the house feels kind of nice. It breaks the silence, something Derek never really needed before but discovers he finds pleasant after all. Derek is happy with the way things are. He’s content. 

It’s still early in the morning but Derek is already typing away. He finds that he is more productive in the mornings anyway, and so he’s munching on a croissant as he is determined to finish this chapter before lunch. Next to him are a stack of papers - research, pictures to help him visualize, the overall outline of his novel,... Kate used to make fun of him for it, saying he could keep all of that on his laptop as well, and Derek knows that she was right, of course. But Derek doesn’t like the whole flipping between folders on his laptop, waiting for documents and pictures to open. It brings him out of his flow, every time, and so he prefers keeping it around him, tangible, easy to glance at while keeping his writing document open at all times, a steady view on it. It’s how he is most productive. 

Stiles doesn’t seem to make fun of him for it - or maybe he does, Derek really doesn’t know what Stiles is saying to him - but at least he doesn’t make Derek feel bad about it. 

There’s a croissant left on the plate when Stiles comes to take away a few empty coffee cups that Derek has accumulated on his desk, so Derek picks up the plate and offers it to Stiles. 

“Would you like the last croissant?” Derek asks as he silently wonders if ‘croissant’ in Polish sounds alike. 

Stiles smiles, but doesn’t reach for it yet. “Na pewno nie chcesz?” he asks in a questioning tone, so Derek just nods and moves the plate in Stiles’ direction again. “Please, go ahead.” 

Stiles hesitates for a second, but then he takes the croissant, takes a big bite from it and smiles broadly at Derek. “Fank you,” Stiles says, his cheeks flushing a little bit like every time he tries to say something in English, Derek has discovered. He thinks it’s ridiculously cute, if he’s completely honest. 

“You’re welcome,” Derek says, way too enthusiastically in proportion to the conversation they are having, but Derek wants to encourage Stiles speaking English. 

“You know, you can have breakfast here in the mornings, if you’d like,” Derek says, suddenly worried that the way Stiles is scarfing down the croissant means he didn’t eat yet before leaving the house in the morning. 

“ Zjadłem już dwa takie rogaliki dziś rano, ,” Stiles says, but Derek doesn’t actually know if it’s in response to what Derek is saying or not. 

Derek doesn’t quite know how to figure it out, but then they’re interrupted by his phone ringing anyway. The problem with having so many papers on his desk though is that he can never quite remember where he put his cellphone, so the ringing continues as he starts rummaging through the papers. Stiles puts down the cups as he starts helping Derek, lifting up stacks of papers in search of the phone. They reach for the same folder at the same time, their hands bumping against each other, and they both pull away sharply, as if burned. Derek can feel his face heat up, and Stiles ducks his head, cheeks flushing. And Derek can’t quite understand why they’re both so awkward about this. 

The phone keeps ringing though, and Stiles continues his search, finally finding it underneath some photographs. He smiles broadly as he hands the phone to Derek, proudly. 

“Thanks,” Derek says, then remembering he looked up the Polish for it, and repeats, hesitantly, “Dzięki.” He has probably fucked up the pronunciation, but it makes Stiles smile so Derek doesn’t really care. 

The phone has stopped ringing in the meantime, and Derek looks down at it to see a missed call from his friend Isaac. He looks over to see Stiles picking up the mugs and plate again after stuffing the rest of the croissant in his mouth and grinning at Derek. 

Derek finds himself watching Stiles leave the room, before he composes himself again and hits the call button to phone Isaac. 

 

***

 

The house has a nice terrace that connects to the pool. It’s heated in the summer, but Derek doesn’t bother turning on the heating pumps in the winter, he feels like it’s a waste since he hardly ever goes swimming anyway. 

It’s considerably warm out for the time of the year today, and so Derek has moved his writing station to the terrace. He’s found the perfect space so the sun doesn’t reflect on the screen of his laptop, and his documentation is stacked up around him. There’s a slight breeze out, so he’s put his coffee mug on a stack of papers to keep them in place. 

Behind the pool there’s a vineyard that’s barren now, but it still looks beautiful. Things don’t have to be in bloom to have it’s appeal. It’s nice and quiet out behind the house, and even though this trip started out as an escape from everything that had happened back home, Derek is truly happy that he took it. He can’t say that he’s happy with what Peter has done, but he discovers that he feels a whole lot better without Kate in his life, and not being with her anymore is definitely the right choice. 

Derek isn’t sure how long he’s been sitting there when he hears Stiles walk up from the house, with a cup of tea in his hand. Stiles has replaced half of Derek’s daily cups of coffee with tea, because - if Derek understood correctly from the hand flailing and gesturing and the intonation in his voice - too much caffeine isn’t good. Derek protested weakly, but he kind of liked the idea that Stiles was concerned about his health. 

So when Stiles comes out with a cup, Derek already knows that it’s tea, but he doesn’t mind. Stiles puts down the cup in a free spot on the table, and Derek realizes just as it happens… Stiles picks up the empty cup, which makes the entire stack of papers fly all over the place. 

“Oh no,” Derek says, getting up out of his chair as Stiles cries out something in Polish, but it’s too late, the papers are blowing away, right into the pool - ‘cause  _ of course _ they do. 

Stiles is babbling a million miles an hour as he rushes over to the pool, pulling his sweater over his head and throwing it on the floor, which gives Derek an idea of what he’s about to do. 

“ _ Stiles _ , no, it’s fine!” Derek calls out, but Stiles has now also lost his shoes and socks, and oh God, he is really going to do this. “It’s not worth it,” Derek tries, even though his chest tightens at the sight of his research floating around on the surface of the pool. And then Stiles’ shirt is off as well, and he’s still babbling, unbuttoning his pants and Derek runs his hands through his hair. He calls after Stiles again, telling him not to do it, but it’s no use, the pants are off and -  _ damn _ , Derek really shouldn’t stare - Stiles is diving into the pool. An actual dive too, Derek is impressed. But the water must be freezing and Derek is still standing there like an idiot, and surely Stiles is going to think he’s an asshole if he doesn’t jump in too and at least try to help. 

Stiles is grabbing papers left and right, saying stuff in Polish that Derek wants to bet are swear words. 

“Oh God,” Derek sighs, stripping off his sweater and shirt, before he just doesn’t bother anymore and jumps in with his pants and shoes on. He’s got dry ones in the house anyway. 

The water is glacial and Derek regrets jumping in the second he gets wet. It’s freezing, and his documentation so isn’t worth this. He’s got most of it backed up on his laptop anyway, and it isn’t the novel itself, but Stiles went through the trouble of facing the icy cold water for it, so Derek really doesn’t have the heart to tell him he can probably replace most of it. 

Stiles is still talking, his voice trembling a little bit from the cold as he reaches for the papers that are all over the surface of the water. Derek reaches for some as well, dropping them on the edge of the pool, before urging Stiles to come out with him. 

“Stiles, please,” Derek says, gesturing towards the border of the pool, “Come on.” 

“Jesteś pewny?” Stiles asks, looking around him at the stray papers floating in the water. 

“Yeah, please, come on,” Derek says, swimming a little closer to Stiles. He puts his hand against Stiles’ arm, gently, and guides him towards the edge. Derek lifts himself up on the edge as Stiles fishes out a few more papers. The cold breeze on his skin makes things even colder. Derek holds out his hand to help Stiles out as well. Stiles clasps his hand in Derek’s, and Derek pulls, until Stiles is standing next to him, dripping wet and shivering, and a little bit breathless. Then Stiles lets out a laugh, running his hand through his wet hair, making it stick out from all sides. 

“What?” Derek asks, but he can’t help but smile as well. 

Stiles shakes his head, chuckling, and says something Derek doesn’t understand. Stiles notices he does enjoy hearing Stiles speak in Polish though. He likes the timbre of his voice, the cadence. And Derek likes the sight of a smiling Stiles, even wet - maybe especially wet? - looking at Derek the way he is now. He doesn’t mistake the quick up and down of Stiles’ eyes over Derek’s body, nor the way he swiftly sucks his bottom lip into his mouth for a fraction of a second. 

“ Głupek ,” Stiles smirks, and yeah… Derek definitely likes it. 

 

***

 

They get back inside to get warm, and Derek runs out into the bathroom to go get the biggest towels he has, which Stiles gratefully accepts and wraps himself into. Then Derek goes to find himself some dry clothes. Stiles took off most of his before jumping into the pool, so his are still fine.

After they get dry, Derek goes to make some more tea, to warm them up from the inside. Stiles is sitting on the couch with his hands wrapped around his warm cup of tea as Derek joins him, and says, “Thank you. For jumping in like that. That was really kind of you.” 

Stiles takes a sip of his tea. 

“I should name one of the characters after you,” Derek says, pensive, “As a thank you.” 

“ Nazwij jedną z postaci po mnie ,” Stiles says, then smiles to himself, “Albo daj mi 50 procent zysków.” 

Derek doesn’t understand a word, but he can’t help but look at Stiles and smile anyway. 

They sit in silence for a second, before Stiles asks something else. He notices that Derek doesn’t get it, so he adds, “Uhm… book?” Then pretends to cry, by rubbing his hand under his eye. He immediately goes over in a played laugh, then puts his hand on his heart and mimics the beating of it. “Uh, romans?” 

Derek gets it, Stiles is asking about the genre of the book he’s writing. 

“Oh, uhm, it’s…” Derek says, thinking for a second on how to best explain it. He does the knife movement from the shower scene from  _ Psycho _ , before trying to pretend to strangle Stiles, without actually touching his neck, of course. 

“Oh!” Stiles says, excitedly, “Kryminał!” 

“Yes, yes!” Derek exclaims, “Crime! Murder.” He puts his fingers together as if he’s holding a gun and waves it around. 

“Straszny?” Stiles asks, putting his hands on his chest and making a startled sound. It’s uncanny how bad the both of them are at acting, but it doesn’t really matter anyway, they make themselves be understood, which is what matters. 

“Scary?” Derek asks, then nods, “Yes, sometimes scary. Well, that’s the intention anyway. Whether it works or not is really something the reader should decide.” 

Stiles smiles politely, clearly not getting that last part, and Derek feels kind of bad because it makes the conversation come to a halt. And Derek kind of wants to go on talking to Stiles, he wants to ask him so many things, but he knows there’s no way that would work. 

Stiles takes another sip from his tea, then puts the cup down and gets up off the couch. He says something that Derek figures means that he will get back to work, so Derek nods. 

“A potem odwieziesz mnie do domu?” Stiles asks, balling his fists as if he’s holding and turning a steering wheel. 

“Of course,” Derek says, and he can’t help but stare into Stiles’ eyes as he adds quietly, “It’s my favorite time of day, driving you.” 

Stiles presses his lips together, locking eyes with Derek. “To najsmutniejsza część mojego dnia, zostawiać cię.” 

 

***

 

If it wasn’t for his sister, Derek would not be returning home for Christmas. He certainly wouldn’t do it for his uncle, but he has promised Cora that he would be home and he doesn’t want to back out on that promise. 

It doesn’t make leaving France any easier though. And no, Derek knows that it really isn’t France… It’s leaving Stiles that is the part that is hardest. He’s not entirely sure how or when it happened, but Derek is pretty sure that he fell in love with Stiles. Which is ridiculous, of course, because they don’t even speak the same language! He doesn’t know anything about him, they can’t communicate. There’s no use in even exchanging phone numbers because they can’t talk to each other. Derek knows this is stupid, knows this is superficial and he’s acting like a schoolboy with a crush, but… the thought of not seeing Stiles ever again pains him inside. 

So he tries not to think about it as he loads up the rental car with his suitcases. Stiles is awfully quiet today, wordlessly handing him the spare key as Derek locks up the house. Everything is clean and closed off, ready to wait until the next visit from someone from the family. 

Stiles quietly gets into the car, and Derek sighs as he searches for words until he realizes that it wouldn’t matter anyway. He could make the most beautiful farewell speech… Stiles wouldn’t understand him. 

So Derek doesn’t say anything either as he gets behind the wheel to go drop off Stiles one last time, before heading to the airport. 

The drive is mostly quiet, the two of them sneaking looks at each other from time to time, but neither of them attempting to speak. Derek parks on the drive of Stiles’ home, like he did so many times before, and they both get out of the car. Derek takes Stiles’ backpack that was laying on the backseat, and hands it to him with a forced smile. Stiles nods as he swings it over his shoulder. 

“Well, I guess this is goodbye then,” Derek says, sadly. 

“Thank you,” Stiles says, his head slightly ducked as he looks up at Stiles through those beautiful eyelashes. 

He holds out his hand and Derek takes it to shake it. There’s no actual shaking though, more like Stiles holding derek’s hand and squeezing it slightly. 

“Będę za tobą tęsknić,” Stiles then says, letting go of Derek’s hand in a rush as he leans forward and presses his lips against Derek’s. It’s over before Derek knows it, he can barely feel the pressure on his mouth before Stiles is already walking away, his steps hastened, like he doesn’t want to prolong their goodbye for a second more, and Derek is left standing there, watching him go. 

Derek wants to call out to him, to run after him, to kiss him again, and again. But Stiles disappears inside the house, without looking back, and Derek just… gets into his car and drives off. 

 

***

 

He isn’t even sure why he does it. He doesn’t think that there’s a realistic chance that this can work, and yet Derek signs up for it anyway. He tells himself that either way, learning another language is a good thing. It can only broaden his horizon, help him get opportunities in life. Objectively, he knows he would be better improving his limited knowledge of Spanish, or even French, seeing as the family has a summer house in France…

And yet Derek finds himself studying Polish at the evening classes the local University offers. A lot of it is through tapes though, and whenever Derek gets the chance, he’s walking around with the curriculum in his ears, repeating phrases in Polish and hoping his pronunciation isn’t too bad. 

It’s not like Derek was a brainiac in school, but he wasn’t too bad at it either, and even though sometimes he’s frustrated by the fact that he can’t suddenly converse fluently in another language from one day to the next he has to admit that he’s doing okay. 

Even though he still isn’t sure what he’s actually going to  _ do _ with this knowledge. 

 

***

 

Before Derek knows it, Christmas Eve has arrived, and he can’t help but wonder what Stiles would be doing right now to celebrate. From the conversations that he’s had with Stiles - mostly assisted by hand gestures and sometimes even Google Translate - Derek understood that Stiles lives with his father. His mother doesn’t seem to be around anymore, and Derek thinks she has passed away, but Derek found it to be too delicate of a subject to gesticulate through, so he never really asked. There’s so many things Derek would have wanted to know, but the language barrier was simply too big. 

Derek hopes that Stiles is celebrating this Christmas with his father, and maybe more family. 

As for Derek, he’s at his sister Cora’s place, even though a part of him really doesn’t feel like celebrating holidays at all, but Cora insisted, and she’s the reason he came home from France after all. 

“Polish?” Cora asks, placing a tray of appetizers on the table in front of them, “You’re learning Polish?” 

Derek just shrugs. He doesn’t even know why he’s said it, it just kind of… came out. 

“Why Polish though?” Cora frowns, “I mean, I…  _ Polish _ ?” 

“It’s an actual language, you know,” Derek says, somewhat annoyed, “There’s a whole country that - !” 

“I know that!” Cora interrupts, “I don’t mean that there’s anything wrong with Poland or the language, Derek.  _ God _ . I just don’t get why  _ you _ wou- ” She stops mid-sentence, and kind of… stares at Derek. “You met someone.” Cora states. It’s not even a question, and Derek honestly doesn’t know how on earth she does that. 

“Cora…” Derek starts, sighing. 

“Oh my God, you met someone,” Cora says, her face lighting up, “And they totally speak Polish, and  _ that _ ’s why you’re suddenly taking language classes!” 

She seems so damn proud of herself that Derek would like to say no just to wipe that smug smile off her face, but he really couldn’t ever lie to his sister, so he simply says, “It’s a stupid idea anyway.” 

“No, it’s not!” Cora says, supportively, “It’s romantic! Who knew you even had it in you?” 

“I can be plenty romantic,” Derek huffs. Then he shakes his head. “But really, it doesn’t even matter. He lives all the way in France, he doesn’t speak English, or French for that matter… There’s like a… Polish quarter where he lives, and…” 

“And you’re willing to learn Polish for him,” Cora presses, “That’s big, Derek. You don’t do that if ‘it doesn’t matter’.” 

Maybe she’s right. Derek doesn’t even know anymore. He simply shrugs and takes one of the hors d’oeuvres from the plate and sticks it in his mouth. Whatever it is - something with avocado - it tastes good, but Cora seems to have made appetizers for an army. 

“How many of these did you make?” Derek asks, looking at the spread on the table, “Are you expecting - ?” 

The bell rings at that exact time, and Cora is looking particularly shifty. 

“Cora?” Derek asks, a frown forming on his face, because there’s really nobody else who’s supposed to be here tonight. 

“Just… try to stay calm,” Cora says, getting up off the couch as she moves towards the door. 

“Cora…” Derek repeats, his good humor fading away fast. 

“He’s family, Derek,” Cora says, disappearing into the hallway to go and open the door, and Derek is up on his feet before she even gets back because he already knows who it is. And there’s no way Derek is sticking around for this. 

“God dammit, Cora,” Derek sighs as she enters the living room again, Peter right behind her. He has the decency to look a little bit subdued, at least. 

“Derek, just listen to me,” Cora tries, but Derek is already looking for his coat, “You two really need to work things out. You can’t stay mad at each other forever.” 

“I’m not mad,” Derek says, stuffing his phone into his pocket and trying to remember where he left his wallet. 

“Come on, Derek,” Peter says, taking a few steps towards him, “‘t Is the season, and all that?” 

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating with Kate?” Derek asks, and yeah, maybe he is still a little bit mad. Then he turns to Cora. “Or is she going to be the next one that rings the doorbell, huh?” 

“Kate and I aren’t together anymore,” Peter says. 

“My heart bleeds for you,” Derek says, deadpan. 

“Derek…” Cora starts, tentatively. 

“No, you know what, Cora?” Derek says, shaking his head as if he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “Maybe you were right before.” 

“Huh?” Cora asks. 

“Maybe it means more than I wanted to admit,” Derek continues, “And I really shouldn’t be here tonight.” 

“Then where should you be?” Cora asks, confused, as Derek takes off into the hallway and grabs his coat. 

He puts it on and turns around before opening the front door. “France,” he answers, and then he leaves. 

 

***

 

The flight to France is long and even though he is exhausted by the time he gets there, Derek doesn’t regret his rash decision. He is even more determined to give this a chance now, and he takes a taxi straight from the airport to Stiles’ house, where he dropped him off so many times before. 

He takes a moment to compose himself before he rings the doorbell. 

He has never met Stiles’ father, but he can only assume that’s who it is that is opening the door for him, and smiles at him friendly. 

“Tak?” the man asks. 

Derek clears his throat, and does his best to ask him in Polish, “ _ Excuse me, Sir. I am here to see your son. _ ” 

“Mieczysław?” Stiles’ father asks, and Derek is confused for a second because Stiles never told him about any siblings that he might have. 

“Uhm,” Derek swallows nervously, “Stiles?” 

“Ach, Stiles!” the man nods as he smiles, “To nasz Mieczysław. Zawsze nazywa siebie Stiles.”

And it makes sense now, because Derek never figured Stiles Stilinski was his real name anyway. 

“Czy jest w domu?” Derek asks, inquiring if Stiles is home, but his father shakes his head, and from what Derek can understand, Stiles is working right now, at a restaurant not far from there. 

“ _ Can you tell me where it is? _ ” Derek asks, in Polish, and he’s pleased to see that his Polish is at least good enough to make himself understood, because Stiles’ dad does him one better and decides to lead the way. 

The restaurant really can’t be that far, because Stiles’ father, who introduces himself as John - Jan, really, but Derek is sure that the English version is for his benefit - takes off on foot. 

They don’t talk much on the way, but John does ask what Derek wants with his son. Derek isn’t entirely sure if Stiles is out to his father, or if he’s really out at all - the kiss might have been a mistake as far as Stiles is concerned - so he starts stammering a bit and loses his words. Inventing a white lie on the spot is a lot more difficult when it isn’t in your native language, Derek discovers, but John appears to see right through him. 

“ _ You must be Derek then _ ,” John says, with a knowing smile on his face. 

Derek deflates, his shoulders dropping in relief. John doesn’t seem disappointed or shocked at all, which reassures Derek immensely. 

“Tak,” Derek says, nodding, and John gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder. 

They round the corner into a charming little street with restaurants all over, cosy lights all the way down the street, hanging over terraces. 

“ _ This is where Stiles works _ ,” John says, indicating a restaurant with a Polish name that Derek doesn’t understand. He still has a lot of studying to do, he realizes. 

“Dziękuję Panu,” Derek says, and he thinks John might step away now, but no he follows Derek right inside. 

As Derek walks into the restaurant, he feels a little bit apprehensive. What if Stiles thinks he’s insane and pushy for just flying all the way over and bothering him at the place where he works? What if for Stiles it was just a little flirt, and he really doesn’t like Derek the way that Derek likes him? What if Stiles met someone else in the meantime? What if…? 

Derek takes a deep breath as he looks around the place. He doesn’t immediately see Stiles. The place is buzzing, and there’s a sociable vibe hanging in the air. The food smells good, and the plates that he sees on the tables and in the hands of waiters look delicious, even though Derek doesn’t recognize all of the Polish cuisine. It’s funny how there’s a whole little corner of Poland right here in France. 

“Gdzie jest Mietek?” John asks the man behind the counter, who appears to be in charge here. 

“Pracuje,” the man answers, glaring at Derek a little bit suspiciously, even though it’s John that asked the question. 

“ _ I know he’s working _ ,” John says, and Derek doesn’t even need to look over to see the eye-roll. “ _ He’ll want to take a break for this. _ ” 

The man behind the counter mutters something about breaks and how it’s not their place to decide, but Derek tunes him out when he sees Stiles emerge from the kitchen with two plates in his hands. He moves swiftly to a table nearby, turning his back on Derek and his father as he delivers the plates to the customers. He then turns around to walk back to the kitchen, but he freezes as he sees Derek, his eyes going wide. 

“Hi,” Derek says, suddenly out of breath by the mere sight of Stiles, and immediately forgetting that the entire point was that he had learned Polish. So he clears his throat and tries again, “ Cześć .” 

“ Cześć , Derek,” Stiles says, a little bewildered. 

“ _ I know that you probably aren’t expecting me, _ ” Derek starts, in what he’s sure is broken Polish, “ _ And that maybe you think I’m crazy for just showing up here. _ ” He takes a deep breath. “ _ But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I went back to the States, and the time that we spent here has meant so much to me. And I guess what I am trying to say is… that I want to give us a chance. And I was hoping you would too? I… don’t know if you’d want to come with me to America, or if you’d like to stay here… _ ” Derek shrugs, and says with a smile. “ _ I can move. I just… I’m in love with you. _ ” 

It sounds stupid to Derek’s ears, but he kind of doesn’t know what else to say. That’s the gist of it, really. He’s in love with Stiles, and he wants to do whatever it takes to be with him. If Stiles wants to as well, of course.

The restaurant seems eerily quiet all of a sudden, and it seems that all eyes are on them. And Stiles is just looking at him, like he’s gathering his thoughts. It’s probably only a couple of seconds, but it’s enough for every single way that Stiles can turn him down to spin through Derek’s head. 

But then Stiles’ face cracks open in the most beautiful smile, and he starts, in English, “Thank you.” He looks like he’s trying to remember the words. “That will be nice.” He sucks his lip between his teeth for a moment before he says, “Yes is being my answer. Easy question.” 

There’s a weight falling off of Derek’s shoulders, a surge of relief going through his entire body. 

“Co powiedziałeś?” John asks, not entirely sure to what Stiles has answered. 

“Oczywiście,  że tak, ” Stiles clarifies for his father, and an approving murmur arises around the restaurant before people actually start clapping for them. Derek’s cheeks heat up at all the attention, even though he knows he only has himself to blame for it, of course. 

But it really doesn’t bother him anymore as Stiles shuffles closer, his arms behind his back, a little bit bashful. 

“You learned English?” Derek asks, because he knows that means that Stiles didn’t want to give up either, that he had hope for them as well, and that he felt like Derek was worth the effort just like Derek thought Stiles was. 

“Just in cases,” Stiles smiles, leaning a little bit into Derek. 

Derek takes that as a clue, and he brings up his hand, his thumb gently rubbing over Stiles’ cheek. Stiles looks at him with bright eyes, pure happiness shining through, and it’s almost too much for Derek to handle. So he acts on instinct and he closes his own eyes as he leans in, brushing his lips over Stiles’. They’re soft and warm, and he can feel Stiles bring his arms around Derek’s waist, pulling him a little bit closer. 

He hears more applause around him as he deepens the kiss a little bit, their mouths fitting together perfectly, Derek’s hand disappearing into Stiles’ hair. He isn’t sure how long the kiss lasts. In a way it feels like hours, but then when they finally pull apart, it still didn’t seem long enough. But Stiles is smiling, and John is patting them both on the shoulders, and the restaurant is filled with a pleasant and joyful buzz, and Derek is… happy. 

 

***

 

Their final decision on where they will live hasn’t been made yet, and for now they’ve landed on half a year in France and half a year in the US to see which one pleases them most. 

Derek really doesn’t care that much, he’ll be happy wherever Stiles is. Though he does admit that he’s missed his friends and sister when he sees them at arrivals at the airport, waiting for Derek and Stiles who are fresh off their flight from France. 

“There they are!” Derek says, an arm around Stiles’ shoulder as they run up to them. “Stiles, this is Boyd, Isaac, and Erica, and my sister Cora.” 

There are hugs and kisses all around. 

“Derek’s friends are so good looking,” Stiles says, still with a little accent, “He never tells me this.” 

Erica and Cora are already laughing. 

“I think maybe now I have made the wrong choice?” Stiles says, a sly smile on his face as he turns to Derek, “Picked the wrong American?” 

Obviously Derek can tell from Stiles’ smirk that he’s just joking, so Derek just plays along. 

“He can’t speak English properly,” he deadpans as he looks at his friends, “Doesn’t know what he’s saying.” 

They all burst out in laughter, and Derek is pretty sure Stiles will fit right in. 

 

*** 

 

The End 

**Author's Note:**

> Translation of French and Polish : 
> 
> Bonjour Aline - Hello Aline  
> Bonjour Monsieur Hale - Hello Mister Hale  
> Petite amie - Girlfriend  
> Bonjour Stiles. Je suis… uh, très heureux de vous avoir ici. - Hello Stiles. I am… uh, very happy to have you here.   
> Lawenda - Lavender  
> Latem - In the summer  
> Na pewno nie chcesz? - You sure you don’t wanna?   
> Zjadłem już dwa takie rogaliki dziś rano - I already had two of them this morning  
> Dzięki - Thanks   
> Jesteś pewny? - Are you sure?   
> Głupek - Idiot  
> Nazwij jedną z postaci po mnie. Albo daj mi 50 procent zysków. - You should name one of the heroes after me. Or give me 50 % of the profits.   
> Romans - Romance   
> Kryminał - Crime  
> Straszny? - Scary?   
> A potem odwieziesz mnie do domu? - You’ll drive me home again?   
> To najsmutniejsza część mojego dnia, zostawiać cię. - It’s the saddest part of my day, leaving you.   
> Będę za tobą tęsknić - I will miss you.   
> Tak? - Yes?   
> Ach, Stiles! To nasz Mieczysław. Zawsze nazywa siebie Stiles. - Ah, Stiles! That’s our Mieczysław. He always calls himself Stiles.  
> Czy jest w domu? - Is he home?   
> Tak - Yes   
> Dziękuję Panui - Thank you, Sir  
> Gdzie jest Mietek? - Where is Mietek (Mieczysław)?  
> Pracuje - He’s working  
> Cześć - Hello   
> Co powiedziałeś? - What did you say?   
> Oczywiście, że tak - Yes, of course.


End file.
